Skeletons
by shadowhuntingdauntlessdemigod
Summary: Alina. The word whispered in her subconscious, plaguing her thoughts with memories of a time she wish she could forget. But she has something that she never had in her past. A shoulder to lean on and a caring word whispered in her ear. Slight Romanogers. Oneshot. Other Avengers included.


**Hello! Thanks for clicking on this :) Okay, first of all, I do not know Natasha's past very well, so forgive me if I mess up. Set after CAWS. Mild Romanogers. If you like it, feel free to leave a review, as they are much appreciated!**

**I don't own Marvel or any part of it at all, like many human beings**

* * *

Skeletons

_ The blaring, sharp alarm began at exactly six in the morning, signaling for every girl to sit on the edge of her bed and vigorously rub sleep from her eyes. They all shook away dreams of a better time and straightened out their spines as the headmistress walked around and undid the shackles binding the girls to the bed._

_ Natalia rubbed her wrist as the handcuff was removed and tucked a stray piece of fiery red hair behind her ear. A rough, white nightgown covered most of her arms and stopped right below her knees, leaving her bare feet exposed. Reciting the drill that she had done every day for nearly the past two years, she stripped off her night clothes and changed into her uniform. The coldness that hung in the air of the unheated room seeped into her skin. The faster she got changed, the better._

_ Her feet were chilled on the cold cement floor. She took a moment to blow warm air into her hands before finishing changing. _

_ It was a Monday, fight day for her. She wore a white tank top and black shorts. However, it was always the braids she had trouble with. Whenever they were uneven, as they often were, she would be punished. As Natalia struggled to finish one braid, a pair of helpful hands finished it for her._

_ Natalia spun around to see the friendly face of Alina smiling as she finished Natalia__'s braids. Soon they were perfect and even, not a hair out of place._

_ "__Thanks," Natalia whispered. Alina nodded in understanding and both girls started tying up their combat boots. Hers were a size too small and shot pins and needles through her feet at the end of the day. She didn't dare complain._

_ The girls made their way to the dining area in complete silence, boots marching together in one unified sound as they took their assigned places at the table. They were provided a few spoons of beans, a small loaf of bread, and one glass of water until nightfall. _

_ The girls ate hungrily and sat still when they were finished, hands clasped together in their laps. Then, they were split into two groups. One group would be doing film appreciation for the day while the others participated in training. _

_ Alina and Natalia were marched into the courtyard along with the rest of the girls. Two girls were selected at random and began to spar in the middle of the circle the others made. Alina __squeezed Natalia's hand and offered a small smile._

_ The ground was made of rough, jagged pieces of gravel. Small trees were potted at the corners of the courtyard, where the buildings were painted deep red._

_ Outside, the air was even colder. Small white flakes began to drift by Natalia__'s nose in the icy wind. She rubbed her hands together to keep them warm and saw that Alina was doing the same thing._

_ They were always there for each other. Natalia arrived first, nearly two years ago. She braved the cruel environment on her own for a few months before Alina __was thrown in. They helped each other after sparring matches, tying pieces of cloth around bloody wounds and uttering whispers of comforting words. They had survived. Together, they braved the hellish nightmare. Of course, if they said what they believed the place to be out loud, they would be beaten._

_ Sometimes, when they desperately had something to say, they would tap out Morse Code on each other__'s arms in slow, delicate patterns as to not be caught. _

_ Natalia flinched as one of the girls in the circle hit the ground with a thud. Looking over heads, she saw a small trail of blood exiting the girl__'s nose. No breaths were being taken or released from her small chest. She was one of the younger ones. Not yet eight and already her life had bee stolen. The other girl stood over her, triumphant in victory. She would live to see another day. _

_ The first time Natalia had killed anyone was around the time she turned ten, about a year after entering. Her mind had left her and she had done what she had been forced to do, trained to do. She simply snapped the girl__'s neck and looked down on her broken form laying on the gravel beneath her feet. She had shown no fear. It was only when she was alone in the dark that her silent tears had lulled her to sleep._

_ Natalia felt a slight tapping on her arm. She waited until Alina__'s fingers pulled away before remembering what she had said. "Did you know her?" __Alina __had asked._

_ Natalia took Alina__'s arm in her hand and tapped her reply. "__—● —__." (No) _

_ Alina __nodded and they turned their heads back to the circle. The girl was carried out by the staff, leaving only a trail of blood to signify that she was ever there. The rest of the girls waited in anticipation for whom the instructor would pick next. Her finger waved in the air before pointing straight at Natalia._

_ "Наталия__," the instructor announced, saying her name in a thick Russian accent. There was no soul behind her name. She was simply another girl, being tested with death once again._

_ Natalia internally gulped and walked forward, trying to not show her fear. To date, she had killed thirteen other girls and critically wounded two others. A very good record, making the instructors look at her more often that usual._

_ The finger waved again and the blonde-curled instructor selected the next victim. She pointed to a girl in the back of the crowd and as the girls parted ways, Natalia gasped. Alina __was walking towards her, her brown braids sashaying as she moved her feet into the circle. _

_ "Алина__," the woman yelled, making Alina move faster until she stood opposite Natalia in the circle._

_ "__начать__!" (Begin) the instructor yelled, starting the stopwatch. Both girls put their hands up in fighting stances. Natalia hardened her gaze. She desperately did not want to harm__ Alina__, her only friend. But only one could make it out alive. __Alina __seemed to know that too. The two friends became mortal enemies in a matter of seconds. _

_ Natalia was the first to strike out, aiming at Alina__'s kneecap. Her heel connected with the bone in a sickening pop, making __Alina __lose her balance. But she was quickly up again, leaning most of her weight onto her left leg._

_ She struck out with her fists next, Natalia dodging the first punch, but narrowly catching the second one. She spun around and shook off the blow, putting her hands back up. Natalia tasted the metallic tang of blood in her mouth, coming from a split lip. Her leg swept out at Alina__'s left, taking her down to the ground._

_ Moving quickly, Natalia got behind her head and put her into a lock. A slight movement of her arms would break Alina__'s neck. Her arms and legs flailed, but Natalia's hold was strong._

_ She looked to her instructor, as if for permission. She nodded with a cold, steely stare. _

_ Natalia brought down her head to Alina__'s ear. "__Мне жаль __(I'm sorry)," she whispered, hoping the instructor wouldn't notice._

_ "__Это нормально __(It's okay)," she whispered back._

_ In one swift motion and the sound of crunching bone, Alina __was dead. Her number had changed form thirteen to fourteen, one of the highest every achieved at "the academy". The record for most kills in two years was seventeen. Natalia wasn't sure she wanted to go after that record. _

_ Natalia stood up, the victor of the fight, and moved to the back of the class. Alina __was carried away, her small body limp in the staff's uncaring arms. She stood there for two hours as three more lifeless girls were taken away and four were sent for "medical attention". That really meant for them to walk off whatever injury they had, no matter how bad, and deal with it on their own time. _

_ The wave of adrenaline began to decrease as Natalia__'s "battle mode" was shut off. The realization began to wash over her. Slowly at first, to where she was just numb at dinner. It fully hit her the next morning. _

_ The alarm blared and she got changed into her full uniform for film appreciation day. She still tied her hair up in braids. Natalia felt along the uneven locks of hair as she began to crumble. She had killed her best friend, without remorse. _

_ "__Why?" she asked herself as she sat alone at the table. She got her answer as she began reciting the lines from the animated film._

_ She killed because that was what she had been trained to do._

* * *

Natasha woke up from the nightmare in a cold sweat. The sun was peeking over the tops of the buildings as she swung her legs off the bed. She rubbed her wrist as if to rid herself from the marks of the handcuff that had all but faded. The scars were still there, barely visible, thin white lines now that cut across her wrist. She steadied her breathing, taking a breath in, holding it, and releasing it steadily to calm her racing heart. Natasha went into the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face, forcing herself to wake up. She did her hair in a neat ponytail and put on sneakers, walking out the door in a tank top and shorts.

Once she was at the gym floor in the Stark Tower, Natasha removed her shoes and got to work on a punching bag. Her fists stung from connecting with the unyielding fabric multiple times. Blood began to seep around her knuckles, leaving red marks on the bag, even through her protective layer. She was hitting the bag harder than she had in a long time, knowing that she would pay for it later in the day, but the pain was helping her to wake up, to forget, for a moment, about the skeletons.

She bent down in anger and unwrapped the thin bandages, pulling out a new set and wrapping her hands just as tight. Then she set to work on the feet and legs. Her left kick was slightly shorter than her right kick and she spent the rest of the morning trying to make it higher. By the time both of her kicks were high enough to meet her standards, the gym had been illuminated with sunlight.

Natasha took gasping breaths to calm herself, to rid the demons that still plagued her mind. Every punch had been intended for her captors, every kick for her trainers. Sweat rolled off her brow and landed on the floor beneath the bag. She unwrapped the bandages around her hands, surveying the damage.

Two split knuckles on each hand and some light bruising. Not the worst she'd ever had to deal with. Natasha rolled up the bandages and began walking towards the elevator. Something stopped her. It was the sound of something falling, no, flying backwards. She moved stealthily towards the other side of the gym, which was separated from her side by a large wall.

Steve stood off to the side, ferociously pounding away at a punching bag, much like she had been a few hours earlier. The bag flew against the wall, pouring sand onto the polished wood floors. A bag just like it lay against the wall, probably what had caused the impact that she had heard a moment earlier.

"Morning," he said, not turning his attention away from the bag, startling Natasha as she didn't think he had heard her come in.

"You're up early," Natasha commented. Steve turned to her and smirked, his eyes bright blue against his glimmering skin. He picked up another bag with ease and clipped it into the ring so that the bag was suspended in the air.

"So are you," he replied, sending his fists into the bag again in a steady, hard motion. "Couldn't sleep?" The next bag hit the wall with a thud and Steve stood there, chest heaving. He began unwrapping his hands as he walked over to her, putting the wraps into his bag. His usually blonde and neat hair stuck to his face with sweat in an unkempt manner.

"No. Same with you?" Steve nodded in response to her question.

"Want to talk about it?" he asked, zipping up his bag. Natasha shook her head no. "You had breakfast yet?" Another no. Steve smiled and offered his arm. Natasha looked confused at the gesture but then realized what he was doing. She hooked her elbow in with his and they walked to the elevator together.

"They rise!" Tony yelled across the room as Steve and Natasha entered the communal floor. Everyone was sitting around the television. They both fixed themselves cereal before sitting down with the other Avengers. Thor was absent, having been called in to Asgard the day before.

"Where were you guys?" Tony asked and Steve began shoveling cereal into his mouth.

"Gym," Natasha replied simply.

"Oh," Tony said. It was quiet for a moment before Tony spoke again. "Okay guys, it's Tuesday. You know what his means?" Clint rolled his eyes. Everyone else looked confused.

"It's get Steve caught up on animated movies day!" Tony said happily.

"Excuse me?" Natasha asked.

"Every week we show a movie to Spangles to get him caught up. This week is animated," Tony replied, very proud of himself.

"Oh." Normal movies she was fine with, but it was the animated ones that gave her goosebumps. Tony popped in a film and started it. Natasha placed her bowl on the coffee table next to Steve's and sunk into the couch.

Tony had selected "Snow White" for them to watch.

"You haven't seen this?" Clint asked, confused. "This was out in your time."

"We never had enough money to go to the theaters and I didn't have any little sisters. I was too sick to move most of the time anyways," Steve replied simply.

The film started, showing on Tony's huge television. Natasha clutched her knees to her chest. She was the Black Widow. She had no reason to be scared of a movie of all things.

Maybe she wasn't scared. She was afraid for the people around her that may be injured if her memories caused her to do something out of the ordinary.

Clint was eyeing her curiously. He knew what she had gone through. "You okay?" he mouthed. She nodded her head slightly and turned her attention back to the television. Natasha was fine for the first half hour. Not a single word escaped her mouth, even though she was running through the entire script in her mind. She had it memorized. It was a requirement at the Red Room. If you didn't memorize completely, you were beaten.

She could feel the cold metal chair beneath her skirt and her lips began moving. Still no sound. Everyone had their attention affixed to the screen. She could almost swear she felt the cold air blowing against her bare neck, the tens of other voices that accompanied hers. The striking of the stick if someone would get a line wrong.

Steve was the first one to notice her lips moving. "Nat?" he asked.

Her vision was stuck to the moving pictures on the screen. She began to speak the lines, exactly in time with the film.

"Dang, Red. I had no idea you liked princesses do much," Tony said, amused.

Clint turned his attention to her and Steve watched his face whiten at the sight of her quoting the movie.

"Tony, turn it off. Right. Now," he said. He spoke every word carefully and quietly.

"Awh, come on. It's just getting good!" Tony complained

"Stark!" Clint said more forcefully. Natasha kept saying the lines, barely moving as she did so. Her eyes were glassed over.

"Sheesh," Tony mumbled and paused the film.

Natasha did not stop saying the lines, even though the movie was off. Clint jumped up from his seat and ran into the kitchen. He grabbed a towel and came back to Natasha, sitting down gingerly by her side.

"Steve, I need you to hold her," Clint commanded as he twisted the towel.

"What are you doing?" Steve asked.

"She was exposed to the film in the Red Room. If she recites the lines for too long, her memories take over, or something like that. All I know is that they bring out a side of her you don't want to see," Clint replied, his gaze solid on Steve.

Bruce was looking at them from one of the other couches and Tony was watching from his stretched out place on the floor.

Steve gingerly took her hands in his and wrapped them behind her back. She didn't respond at all, her lips still moving and uttering the lines. She was completely unresponsive. Her eyes were open, but they didn't seem to be seeing anything. At least not what was around her in that moment, anyways. Clint moved in front of her and got the gag in her mouth mid sentence, stopping the flow of words. As he began to tie it around the back of her head, she shifted.

Natasha flipped upwards, pulling herself out of Steve's grasp and landing on the floor behind the couch.

"Shit!" Clint yelled. "Don't let her get you around the neck!"

Everyone was standing now, looking at Natasha, who was also standing behind the couch.

"Sorry guys, but I should go," Bruce said, exiting the room quickly. There was no reason to endanger them more than he had to.

"Natasha," Steve tried, walking up to her slowly. She was staring down Clint. Natasha kicked her leg out, Clint barely missing the leg sweep.

She kept coming, rolling on the floor and grabbing his arm, twisting it behind him. Clint uttered a cry of pain as the arm was bent behind him. He twisted and got his arm free, but she took him to the ground and got him in a chokehold.

"Natasha!" Steve yelled as Clint gritted his teeth.

"Woah, Red. Take it down a notch," Tony said. He still thought this was some kind of a joke. He could not see the flailing Clint from his position.

"This is not you!" Steve yelled again. Her eyes snapped to attention up to him. They were wild, but they knew exactly what they were doing. "This is the Red Room. They aren't here. You don't have to do this. It's just your memories. You can fight this."

Taking a risk, he knelt down beside her. Clint was running out of air.

"You are a considerate woman that saved so many civilians at the battle of New York. You do not kill for the wrong reasons any more." His voice was calm, his electric blue eyes focuses on her green ones.

"Alina," she whispered. In an instant, the wild look was gone from her eyes and she released Clint, who began gasping for breath. Natasha looked around at Tony, who was staring curiously at the gasping archer on the ground. Her gaze shifted to Clint and the red marks forming around his neck. She looked at Steve last, his gaze calm on her shaking form.

"Natasha. You're okay," Steve said quietly.

"●●'— ●●● — ●—● ●—● —●—" (I'm sorry) was the response she tapped out on Steve's arm. He immediately recognized it as Morse Code, when the dots became lines and then dots again. He deciphered the message before tapping his own reply on her arm.

"●— ●—● ● —●— — ●●— — —●— ●— —●—?" (Are you okay?) he asked her.

Clint had since regained his breath and was watching as Natasha's fingers danced on Steve's arm once again. "—● —." (No)

"What are you guys saying?" Clint asked, annoyed.

"Nothing much," Steve replied.

"Secret tappy mumbo jumbo," Tony yelled from his place on the couch, where he had returned seeing as the event had ended.

"You okay, Nat?" he asked, repeating Steve's question that he had not heard.

"I'll be fine," she replied, which was different than the reply she had given Steve. Clint had seen her in this state before, and knew the answer, but did not press for it.

"Mind if I take you up?" Steve asked. Natasha shook her head as Clint made his way to the couch.

Steve scooped her up, her small form close to his. As soon as they made their way to the elevator, Tony started playing the movie.

He brought her up to her floor and immediately walked into the bedroom, his bare feet padding on the hardwood floors as he went. Her floor was relatively dark, most of the furniture was black and even the floors were a dark color of wood. The sheets on her bed, however, were crisp and white when he lay her down on them.

She moved over and put her head on a pillow, sighing as she did. "Stay?" she asked in a small voice. Even though it was the afternoon, the ordeal had tired her. And she really didn't want to wake up from another one of her past demons.

"Of course," was his reply. He got down next to her, chest facing the ceiling. Steve wrapped his arm around her head and back, which she used as a pillow.

"Thanks, Steve," she murmured, her eyes already half lidded from tiredness.

"Sleep tight, Natasha," he whispered. In a few minutes, her breathing was even as she fell asleep in the safe arms of the soldier.

* * *

**I did use Morse Code in here, if you look it up, those are the letters. But I don't think I spaced them out right. Oh well. Hope you enjoyed! :)**


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